Reuvain Borchardt

“The oilam is missing the boat in what’s going on the world today,” the rav says.

“The Ramban at the end of Parshas Bo says that all the nissim of Yetzias Mitzrayim were to counteract the various kefirah theories that had developed in the world since Dor Enosh. The fact that the Eibershter changed the tevah at Yetzias Mitzrayim showed that He’s the one who created the world, runs it, and gives reward and punishment.

“The Ramban says that everything that happens, including what we call ‘tevah,’ is really a neis. But when something happens to an individual—like he gets sick or loses his job—it’s not always so obvious that it’s hashgachah. However, when things out of the ordinary happen to Klal Yisrael as a whole—whether for the good or the bad—it becomes obvious to everybody that there’s a Ribono Shel Olam.”

The rav is Rav Elya Nota Katz, mara d’asra of Khal Lev Avrohom on Gudz Road.

We’re sitting in his home in nearby Westgate as he relates how the lessons of Yetzias Mitzrayim are as relevant to us today as they have ever been.

“The oilam is missing the boat in what’s going on the world today, with the explosion of anti-Semitism since last year Simchas Torah,” the rav says. “People are looking for the causes, but the Ramban clearly says that when something happens to Klal Yisrael as a whole, it’s the biggest proof of hashgachah!”

“The hashgachah is so palpable one could feel it with his hands,” Rav Katz says excitedly, holding up both his hands and rubbing his fingers together.

Rav Katz says the massive increase in anti-Semitism around the world is “shelo k’derech hatevah—it almost doesn’t make sense.”

“The anti-Semitism today is coming from the liberals. When I was growing up, the liberals, the Democrats, like Hubert Humphrey, were our best friends. What happened now? They became our biggest haters, and it doesn’t fit with their worldview, which is tolerance. They have tolerance for every minority except the Yidden. The reason for that is that it’s not k’derech hatevah, and that’s the biggest proof that it’s hashgachah.”

“But,” the rav says, his ever-present smile growing even larger, “There’s another shelo k’derech hatevah phenomenon we’re experiencing today as well.

“There has also been an explosive growth of Torah in the last 75 years since the Holocaust, which no one in the world could have fathomed. No one would have believed in a million years that Torah would flourish in America as it has. There’s no way of understanding it through natural causes. So you see both sides of the Ramban: on the one hand, the massive anti-Semitism, and on the other hand, how much Torah has grown in America and Eretz Yisrael. Both prove hashgachah.”

“And so,” he says, “As we enter Pesach in America 5785, our emunah should be as strong as the emunah of those who witnessed the nissim at the Yam Suf 3,337 years ago.”

Rav Elya Nota Katz was born and bred in Cleveland, the son of Rav Chaim Tzvi Katz, a chashuve mashpia in Telz and rebbi in Hebrew Academy of Cleveland.

He attended Telz “all the way through,” he likes to say, growing close with Rav Mordechai Gifter.

When asked if there was a particular incident from his youth that made a lasting impression, he immediately relates a story about Rav Gifter.

“In Telz, the yeshivah dining room and the office building are next to each other,” Rav Katz recalls. “It was a boiling hot day, and at the same moment that I stepped out of the air-conditioned dining room, Rav Gifter stepped out of the air-conditioned office, and we both get hit by this unbearable heat. Rav Gifter turns to me, and he says, ‘S’iz heis? S’iz asach heiser in Gehinnom!’ (It’s hot? It’s a lot hotter in Gehinnom!) That’s a quote that has remained with me my entire life. It was one brief statement that encapsulated the tachlis of a person in this world.”

After Telz, Rav Katz learned in Brisk by Reb Berel Soloveitchik, before moving on to Beth Medrash Govoha. Then he was among the first bachurim at the new yeshivah in Edison.

After he was married, Rav Katz and his wife, Miriam, moved to Monsey, where he learned in the Brisker kollel for 18 years.

He was a maggid shiur in Stamford for 16 years, said shiurim on Shabbos in Ohel Torah, and then in recent years had a kollel in Monsey.

Over a decade ago, his wife was niftar after a protracted illness. Rav Katz was a widower until he married the former Mrs. Gittel Bresler of Lakewood two years ago. He then moved to Lakewood, becoming the rav at Khal Lev Avrohom.

Rav Katz’s face has only two positions: large smile and larger smile. He breaks into the latter while speaking of his new kehillah, a mix of kollel yungerleit, mechanchim, and ba’alei batim, with great pride and gratitude.

“It’s a very chashuve oilam,” he says. “The Eibershter sent me to the right place. They’re real mekablim, and I have a lot of hana’ah from them.”

His drashos are imbued with the emunah and bitachon necessary for the days we live in, where we’ve seen growth in Torah never thought imaginable yet also face terrible nisyonos.

Rav Katz strongly believes that the tendency of some people to emphasize how much better previous doros supposedly were is wrongheaded.

“How many bnei Torah do you think there were in all of pre-war Europe? A couple thousand,” he says. “They were very scarce. Today the Eibershter bentched us with a shefa of Torah all over the world.”

“We’re accustomed to thinking that before the war, Yiddishkeit was Rav Boruch Ber, Rav Shimon, Rav Chaim Ozer, the Gerrer Rebbe, and the Belzer Rebbe. But the true story is that most of Klal Yisrael were not shomrei Torah u’mitzvos.

“The Rosh Yeshivah, Reb Malkiel, told me that his father, Reb Shneur, used to say that if not for the war, there would have been nothing left of Yiddishkeit—it was going down so badly that the war saved it because everyone was uprooted and restarted in America. And I heard that Reb Elya Ber said that his father, Reb Nosson, used to say the same thing.”

While the vast majority of American Jews have little connection to their heritage, Rav Katz says this actually presents a unique opportunity for the Jews who do follow the path of Torah.

He cites the mishnah in Pirkei Avos that says Avraham Avinu collected all the s’char of his generation and the previous nine because they were full of resha’im while he did far more than his share of mitzvos.

Rabbeinu Yonah says that each person has a portion of Gan Eden and a portion of Gehinnom set aside for him; he will get whichever he’s worthy of. There’s a certain number of mitzvos to be done in every generation, so if someone does more than his share, and other people do fewer, the first person will collect the s’char of the others.

“So yes, there are millions of Yidden who don’t know anything about Yiddishkeit,” Rav Katz says. “But that means there’s so much more Torah that should have been learned, and the relatively small number of bnei Torah we have today, if they do beyond their share, can take the s’char that was set aside for the entire generation. It’s a gevaldige mechayev for our generation that we can chap arein so much more!”

This is not to say that we don’t face major challenges the likes of which previous generations never experienced.

“Technology is one of the biggest nisyonos Klal Yisrael has ever had,” the rav says. “The Mashgiach, Reb Matisyahu, and the Skulener Rebbe led the battle. If not for them, things would have gotten much more out of hand, and they really saved the generation.

“Although the way things have evolved, internet use has become almost a necessity to many, we must be even more vigilant with use of the internet and its various associated devices, to use them only for what’s truly necessary. The way so many have become hooked on their devices is the antithesis to a Torah way of life. When our focus is on our devices rather than on our avodas Hashem, we’ve reached a dangerous point.”

Another issue of concern today, the rav says, stems from the relative financial success our generation has experienced.

“Baruch Hashem, the tzedakah and chessed in this town are unbelievable. On the other hand, indulging in too many extravagances, which some of that has led to, is not exactly a good thing. The Mesillas Yesharim says that if you’re too attached to your desires, that detaches you from the Eibershter.

“You see some of these advertisements for Pesach programs, with the fancy tea rooms and over-the-top cuisine. Why are you advertising the fact that you’re taking people away from their tachlis, which is to try to minimize indulgences?

“Kedoshim tihyu—sanctifying ourselves by that which is permitted—is dependent on each person’s level. Some may need more gashmiyus and others less. But the notion that life’s goal is to live it up with indulgence in gashmiyus is the opposite of everything Yiddishkeit stands for.”

He may speak strongly against technology and physical extravagances, and he may have been most inspired by a story about the heat of Gehinnom, but Rav Nota Elya Katz is no fire-breathing zealot.

His calm demeanor, permanent smile, and warm personality never change. Even when discussing personal tragedy.

The rav’s son Chatzi (Chaim Tzvi), a beloved singer, musician, friend, and secret ba’al chessed was niftar suddenly last Rosh Hashanah at the age of 27.

It’s with pride that Rav Katz speaks of his son.

“From the things I’m hearing about my son since his petirah, I came to realize that I didn’t really know him, because he was mamish a tznuah and kept under wraps 99 percent of what he did.”

Chatzi, who lost his mother at 17, was known to speak at length to yesomim and anyone else who needed an encouraging word or listening ear. He gave beyond generously of his time and money. One person revealed at the shivah that he found out that Chatzi gave 80 percent of his income to tzedakah. He was known never to turn down a request to contribute to a campaign.

When Rav Katz asked Chatzi’s friend Yisroel Besser, the noted biographer, whether he would consider writing a book about him, Besser replied, “Writing a book about Chatzi would be impossible. Most of what he did, no one knows about. And a lot of the favors he did, he did in a way that they didn’t realize; if we write a book about it, they will realize how much he helped them, and they might be embarrassed.”

Rav Katz says this puts his son’s seemingly untimely petirah in perspective.

“The Chovos Halevavos says that when a person gets credit and recognition for his ma’asim, he loses most of his s’char because he already got his s’char in the form of recognition. The true s’char a person will get in Olam Haba is for ma’asim that no one knows about. Most people take 90 years to accumulate the s’char they need because most of their ma’asim are known. My son earned undiluted s’char for 27 years, so he accomplished in that time what most people don’t do in 90. The Eibershter knows what He’s doing. We don’t have to try to figure it out. But if I have to figure it out, I could understand it also.

“Of course, down here for us, it’s painful. It’s very painful. But that doesn’t mean we have to understand it. The Eibershter has his cheshbonos. And I tell my kids: Do you know how much you gain from the yissurim you go through? The Eibershter has a meter running. Nothing gets lost.”

Rav Katz proudly shares a poem Chatzi’s yeshivah friends wrote about him when they delivered mishloach manos to Rav Katz this Purim. And he also shares an article printed in Mishpacha Magazine by a 17-year-old Chatzi, an article in the form of a letter that he wrote to his late mother after the conclusion of his year of saying Kaddish for her.

In it, Chatzi describes the difficulties of a teenager having to make every minyan on time and endure the stares as he says Kaddish. And of his feeling of relief that the year was over. But then also of the feeling of sadness that “this special bond between us,” the Kaddish he was saying for her soul, is coming to an end. He concludes by expressing his desire to maintain that bond and continue to do things for her zechus, so that—in words Rav Katz now says are “painful to look at”—his mother will “go to Hashem and say, ‘Look at my son, what he does for me. Please do for him.’”

In addition to the petiros of his first wife and Chatzi, Rav Katz has endured other tragedies, including losing his brother Reb Mutty to Covid.

“Life’s never easy,” I say. “But it seems the rav has had more than his fair share of tragedies. How does someone deal with that?”

“I would like to correct your statement” Rav Katz says. “I wouldn’t call it ‘more than my fair share,’ because whatever the Eibishter designates for a person is his fair share, for his good. We ma’aminim know that 100 percent.

“When my son was niftar, I said right away that if Reb Moshe Feinstein were to come into the room and pasken something, we would all accept the validity of his psak without question. Well, if the Ribono Shel Olam paskened that this was the best thing for Chatzi’s neshamah and for us, who are we to question His psak? Is the Ribono Shel Olam any less than Reb Moshe Feinstein?

“It doesn’t mean we understand it, but we know it’s l’tovah.”

Our time is up, but it’s not easy taking leave of Rav Elya Nota Katz. So, as an excuse to remain a bit longer, I ask if there is any final thought he has on a particular issue our generation can work on.

His response: avodas hamiddos.

“People think that only if you have a bad middah do you have to work on it,” he says. “But the Vilna Gaon said the tachlis of a person in this world is tikkun hamiddos, and if he doesn’t do that, why does he live?

“A person should never become complacent in his middos. Tikkun hamiddos means not only fixing a bad middah, but refine, and refine, and refine our middos yet again.”

He quotes the Mesillas Yesharim, saying that fulfilling Lo sikom and Lo sitar are only easy for malachim: When someone hurts you, the sweetest thing is fantasizing about and taking revenge.

“Yet Hashem demands that of all of us,” the rav says. “Rav Matisyahu says from the Chinuch that the only way to achieve this is to work on your bitachon and realize that anything someone did to you was coming to you anyway min haShamayim, so it really wasn’t that person who hurt you. And the Mesillas Yesharim says that a person may think, Okay, so I don’t want to take revenge, but I don’t have to be as close friends as I was before, right? Wrong. V’ahavta l’rei’acha kamocha. You must love him just like yourself.”

Rav Katz then shares a mashal from Rav Matisyahu.

A man was moving to a new home around the corner and didn’t want to pay for a moving truck. So he asked his friend who was a mover if he could borrow his truck on a Sunday when he wasn’t working. But his friend, shockingly, said no.

The man had no choice but to start moving his belongings piece by piece with the only conveyance he had—his baby stroller. It was a cold, rainy day, and he struggled to take item by item around the corner, wheeling the stroller through the mud—all while his friend stood by with folded arms and watched from his warm, dry living room.

Finally done and exhausted, well after midnight, the man collapses into bed. But five minutes later there’s a knock at the door.

It’s his friend. “My daughter’s coming to me for Shabbos,” he says, “and I noticed you have a baby stroller. May I borrow it?”

“Anyone would understand if the man would slam the door in his face,” Rav Katz says. “But what does the Torah demand of the man? That he say, ‘Of course you can. But I’m sorry it’s a little muddy. Let me clean it up first, and then I’ll gladly let you use it.’”

“Is this humanly possible? Of course—because the Torah demands it.

“And that’s the work of a lifetime.”